The Face in the Mirror
by Labrynth
Summary: After the events of Deathly Hallows, some people take longer to recover than others.


Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine of course. I had always wondered what had happened in the aftermath of Deathly Hallows, but a comment on the CoS forums popped this idea into my head. I couldn't pass it up.

**The Face in the Mirror**

The firewhiskey burned all the way down. His mouth, his throat and into his belly. Letting the glass clatter to the table, drops of liquid spatter across the wood surface, he dropped his head into his hands. More than anything he wanted to rail at the world, to blame everyone else for his loss. But the honest truth was that he just didn't care enough for it. Blaming someone just took too much effort.

Tears leaked down his face and he didn't bother wiping them away. They simply added to the misery he had felt for so many years. Half of him had been taken away and the other half had shriveled up in response. He couldn't even call himself a shadow of his former self any longer because it wasn't true. Even a shadow had more substance than he did. Choking back a sob he up-ended the glass and poured himself another round. One shot of liquid flames followed quickly by another.

"Fred," he toasted to no one in particular before he gulped it down.

A squeak from the door hinge let him know someone was there but he didn't bother to look up. It wasn't his brother, his lost twin. It wasn't Fred so it didn't matter.

"Bloody hell," a voice muttered just before the empty glass was swept out of his hand. The nearly empty bottle also disappeared. Bleary eyed he looked up, his eyes swimming into focus.

Hands on his hips with a look of disgusted exasperation on his face his brother glared at him. "When is the last time you left this room?" Ron demanded hotly. "I could smell you as I was walking up the stairs. Lee and Verity say they haven't seen you for more than a week."

"Go away," George mumbled, his words slurring badly. "'S my shop. I'll do whatever I want with it."

"Like hell you will," Ron spat furiously. "This was Fred's dream too you know. He'd roll over in his grave if he saw all of this. No new product for more than a year. Shoddy spells on everything you actually manage to do. If it weren't for Lee and Verity this place wouldn't have made it the last three years. Pull yourself together already!"

Fire burned in his belly and he pushed away from the table. "What do you know?" he snarled at his youngest brother. "You are off with Hermoine. Off with Harry. You stop by every few weeks to tsk and tell me how to run things." His voice escalated in pain and anger. He swayed unsteadily on his feet. "But what do you know? You still have everyone. I lost my brother. I lost my twin." Tears fell freely and his voice dropped to a miserable whimper. "I lost Fred."

"I'm here damn near every day. I put off my Auror training. Hermoine and I have put off our wedding." Ron's ears were turning a brilliant shade of red, which was never a good sign. "Who do you think orders supplies? Who do you think does the things you should be doing? I lost him too. We all did." Ron ground out through clenched teeth. "I saw him die remember? I saw him crushed, buried by the explosion. I LOST HIM TOO!!"

Ron's show of anger manage to trickle into his alcohol addled brain. Shame welled up inside of him, blossoming in his cheeks. Fred would be ashamed of him. But Fred wasn't here. Fred was dead and gone. Worm food.

"Go shower," Ron said gently. "Everyone will be here soon." With a soft sigh, pity colored his voice. "Maybe they won't drag out this birthday like they did last year. I'll do what I can." He turned towards the door. Pausing, one hand on the door frame, he glanced over his shoulder at his brother. At the one person in his family who had lost more than any of them. "We all miss him you know," he whispered then let the door close behind him.

George stood, staring at the floor. The grain of the dark wood seemed to move, making him dizzy. His feet seemed glued there and a glimmer of thought in the back of his mind thought it would make a great gag. But the glimmer didn't last and he couldn't even manage enough interest to keep it in his mind. All that was there were the haunting thoughts of birthdays past. Days where Fred would have either shoved him out of bed when they shared a room or barged into his room above the shop, making as much noise as possible as he did so. In all their years together George had never been able to beat Fred out of bed on their birthday. Not a single time.

Managing to un-stick his feet he shuffled towards the stairs that led up to the apartment above the shop. His footsteps echoed hollowly on the wooden treads and he could feel the vibration deep in his soul. Merlin knew there was enough room in there seeing as how he was mostly empty these days. It was like everything he thought he was had leaked slowly out of him. Like Fred had been the glue that held it all in.

He was moving but it certainly wasn't due to sheer will power. Truth be told he didn't have the will to do much of anything these days. In fact, if his body didn't do what it needed to live, he didn't even have the will to survive. Losing Fred had killed a part of him he knew he'd never get back. Something that could never be completely healed, let alone replaced. There wasn't a single day that went by that he didn't wish he had gone with Fred. His mind knew it was an entirely selfish thing to wish for, especially knowing what it would do to the rest of his family, but he couldn't help it. His twin was the other half of himself. And that half was gone. Dead. Still worm food. George thought Fred would have been amused at the thought of being worm food. There would have been some kind of gag or joke candy to go with it. But the thought still made him want to puke.

These days he rarely used magic, even for the things that would make life a little easier. It was just too damn much trouble. Spinning the handle on the shower he made the water start and only as a second thought remembered to add some hot water to it. He got a small whiff of himself and wrinkled his nose. No wonder Ron had avoided him the last time he had come to check in. He smelled like a goat. A goat that rolled in cow dung. Then again it's not like many people were around to notice. It had been weeks since he'd gone to the sales floor of the shop and after dealing with his lack of interest on more than one occasion most of the employees and family that had come around to help out didn't bother to engage him in shop details anymore. It was too frustrating for them. He couldn't remember the last time he had come up with a new idea. Fred would be embarrassed to call him a brother, let alone a twin. Percy was less of a disappointment. _Percy._

That thought forced him to snort at the picture it brought to mind. Fred and Percy planning jokes together while he withered away into nothing.

Empty eyes stared back at him from the mirror as it slowly fogged from the steam. There once was a time he could see Fred smiling back at him, but that had been a long time ago. Now he just saw a shell of a person who didn't even care that he was a shell. Admittedly his family had tried everything in their power to being him back from the depression that was slowly eating him alive. Unfortunately there was nothing to be done. Nothing that could ever heal the gaping hole in his soul. He had wondered once if losing a twin was worse the longer they were together. Did twins who had their other half die in utero feel like this?

With a sigh he jerked back the shower curtain unaware of the water getting all over the floor. His mother would have yelled at him had she been here. Tell him a thing or two about water ruining a perfectly good floor if he wasn't careful. One day he'd fall through thanks to all of that water, and wouldn't that be a great joke? It would be the first funny thing he'd done in years.

Water ran over him and somewhere his mind realized the water was too hot, leaving red trails down his skin that should be mildly uncomfortable at the very least. But none of it registered. None of it mattered. Deep inside something stirred. Began to rear its ugly head. He felt the tears well again and almost laughed at himself. He hadn't even cried at the funeral. He couldn't bring the tears forth then, but for the last year or so he'd been able to do nothing else. Been unable to hold them at bay for any length of time. Poor Verity cringed every time she looked at him. She had tried to quit a hundred times, but Lee or Ron always talked her out of it amid her tears and protests she couldn't watch George keep on like he was. Lee had tried time and time again to break through to him, but even he had finally given up.

Sobs wracked his body and he let them come. Let them shake his entire frame. It felt as if the last withering piece of his soul was being wrenched from his body. Grief unlike he had ever allowed himself to feel welled up inside of him and he let it take hold. He had chosen to become numb with grief, chosen not to feel the extent of it. The depth of it. But now he didn't hold it back, he let it happen. Let it rip what was left to him to pieces.

The water was cold before the sobs stopped. Ever so slowly it registered that he was ice cold. But inside he was hot. Burning up with rage.

"Damn you!" he screamed to nothing. "You left me behind!! You're not supposed to leave me behind!" Anger at his twin filed him until he thought he might explode. White hot with emotion. "You stupid git! Why weren't you paying attention? If you'd had your head where it should have been, you could have avoided that wall. But no! Instead you thought it was a hoot. Thought it was just another big joke. It never occurred to you that any of us could die. And then You. Left. Me."

Choking on his own fury he slammed the water off and stalked out of the shower stall. Dripping water all over the floor he stomped to the mirror and wiped the steam away. Something shone in his eyes. Something he was no longer familiar with. Shoving away from the reflection in disgust he reached for a towel. His family would be here soon if they weren't already here. It was time to face the music. It was time to let them celebrate his birthday. Fred's birthday.

Footsteps rang heavy, somehow filled with his smoldering anger. It hadn't gone, simply abated slightly. It was the first real emotion he'd felt since Fred's death. It was something but perhaps not really a good thing. Anger could eat you alive as well. Not that there was much left to feast on. Taking a deep breath he opened the door at the bottom of the stairs and into the crowded room.

"Happy Birthday!" everyone yelled and he managed a wan smile. They did love him. He knew that. Maybe one of these days it would be enough. His mother came forward and hugged him tight, kissing his cheek. Her eyes glittered with tears and he wished he could do something to make them go away. No matter how many things he had done to make her worry or yell, he never wanted her to be hurt. She was his Mom.

"We got you something," she told him with forced brightness. Her stance told him she was unsure about what he was about to say. "Harry, Ron and Hermoine, " Ginny cleared her throat and Molly quickly added, "and your sister, have been working on this for a long time." She paused, chewing her lip a second in hesitation. Ginny nodded at their mother, red hair bobbing slightly. When had she cut her hair? "We weren't sure how you'd take it, but maybe he can do something with you since we can't."

She stepped aside and for the first time he noticed the large rectangular package on the ground. It stood propped up against the wall, wrapped in plain brown paper. He frowned slightly. It looked suspiciously like a portrait. If they thought staring at his dead brother would help...

He shoved aside the anger and chastised himself. They only thought they were helping him. Once they were gone he could shove it in a closet if need be and take it out when he knew they were coming. Like ripping off a band aid, he pulled the brown paper, ripping it down the middle to expose what was inside.

"It's about time you stupid berk!" Fred glared at him from inside the carved wooden frame. His own eyes looked him up and down and his brother shook his head. "Look at you. You're a right mess you are. Obviously I'm not a moment too late. Look at how scrawny you are. Here you could be eating treacle tarts all day if you wanted and instead you're wasting away." His voice grew wistful. "What I'd give for some bread pudding..."

George simply stared in shock. His brother. His brother was speaking to him. _Fred was speaking to him._ This wasn't real. Fred. Was. Gone.. "How-" he began but could only shake his head.

It was Hermoine that stepped forward from the crowed. Ron stepped up beside her, wrapping an arm around her waist. Maybe he thought George would rail at her, or maybe he just wanted to fill in what was probably going to be a long winded and technical explanation. It's not like Hermoine had ever been quick to get to the point.

"We've been thinking about this a while. It seemed to us that if you were this miserable here, Fred was probably miserable too. Two peas in a pod. It took us a while to figure out how to do it. Most of the portraits like this are planned a head of time. Most of the subjects leave something of themselves behind specifically to use for this purpose. But of course Fred didn't plan..." She trailed off slightly, obviously uncomfortable. Weight shifted from foot to foot.

Ron stepped in then. "What my dear wife means to say is that with a bit of work and a lot of magic we were able to make Fred's portrait. Of course it's not the same as him being here, not really, but you didn't think he was ever totally gone did you?"

"Right!" chimed Fred. "If you'd been paying attention, I've been trying to let you know that for ages. Collapsed shelves, ringing bells, the escaped Pygmy Puffs. I've been _working_ at it here!" his voice dropped to a mutter, "Spending on your time with the Firewhisky, teasing me, knowing I can't have any."

Stepping up behind Ginny, Harry rested his hands on her shoulders. Her new cut just brushing the backs of his hands. A small smile was on her face. "He's a little more... active... than the portraits you're used to. Of course this is Fred we're talking about..."

Indignation colored Fred's voice. "Of course I'm active! I have to be. Look at him. He's a mess. Upstairs wallowing in self pity no doubt!" George looked into the face of his twin. "Why I bet you haven't thought of anything worth adding in ages have you? I'll bet the whole product line has gone to hell because you were too busy crying into your glass." He snorted. "I always was the brains of this operation."

"Hey!" George protested. "I had an idea! In fact I've had a few! Goes to show what you know!"

"Yeah right," Fred retorted at his twin. "It's not like you can come up with anything worth selling without me. Why if they hadn't gotten me here this year, this place would go under!" He shuddered in the frame. "This place would be boarded up, covered in dust, looking like the Death Eaters were kidnapping people again."

"I'll have you know," George retorted hotly, "that just today I had a fantastic idea. Sticky shoes! I'm still not sure of the delivery. Perhaps a chameleon glue, put it on the floor so it blends in, then when someone hits it BAM! Stuck there."

Fred looked thoughtful. "Not bad," he admitted slowly. "You could always use chameleon glue inside the shoe and add a temperature charm so that it activates as their foot warms."

Smiling, Ron looked at his family and nodded. This was a hint of the George they had missed. The George that had life in his eyes. The twins continued to bicker in the background as Mrs. Weasley brought out the cake. Like he always had before, Ron tuned out the squabbling. "Thank you," he whispered in his wife's ear. Meeting Harry's eyes he offered a silent thanks. It was Harry who had the idea originally. Hermoine had done the research trying to figure out how to put the idea into motion. Ginny had helped with the magic, but she had also given them all a swift kick when they felt like giving up. This magic was tricker than anything they had ever tried. Maybe with time he'd have his brother back.

Jingling from over the door grabbed Ron's attention and he looked up in time to see Angelina Johnson step shyly inside the door. She offered a small wave in his direction.

"Aha!" bellowed Fred. "I assume you remember Angelina you git." A sly smile slid across his face as he eyed his twin. George could almost feel his brother's elbow dig into his ribs. "I hope you'll remember to name your first born after me."

Feb 2009


End file.
